


When machines feel

by Sherlocks_the_name



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: ALL THE GAY, Greaserlock, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Teenlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-16 02:44:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7248901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlocks_the_name/pseuds/Sherlocks_the_name
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes is just waiting for finish high school to leave his ordinary town (and pesky brother) and finally do something that doesn't kill him from boredom. But then a new kid moves into town. Which isn't all that spectacular, that is, until they meet each other. Soon, he'll show Sherlock, that even with all his genius, he missed all of the obvious, and that his town might not be so ordinary, all he had to do was look a bit harder. <br/>GREASERLOCK</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

SHERLOCKS POV 

People were so predictable. Most of the time it served to his advantage, but it was boring to know what was going to happen 98% of the time. But then again, he was always bored. 

It was this town it seemed. Before a conversation started he already knew what the person was gonna say, what they'd brag about, who they were lusting after. It was all so… Repetitive. 

The town wasn't that small, but almost everyone knew everybody. Usually if you went to the supermarket, you'd know everyone but like 5 people.

If he wanted, he could leave now but Mycroft would never let him. Not like he cared. But he knew that if he left without completing high school, his men would constantly be surveying him till he knew he got his life ‘In order’.

At least he had Lola. It was very clique, that he, the leader of a greaser group, had a motorcycle. He was reluctant to get it at first because he hated cliques with a passion, but Lestrade convinced him. Honestly, he was glad he did.

Many said he was a robot, that he couldn't experience love, but based on other people, he was pretty sure that love was the closest word he could describe his feelings toward Lola. 

The first time he rode he felt free, truly free for the first time in years. When you had a brother like his, you'd understand. Ever since the accidents, Mycroft was more frustrating than ever. He had control over cameras, men, the whole bloody nation in the palm of his hands. Always watching him. Although he never listened to his brothers ‘advice’ it still felt suffocating, knowing he was being watched at all times.

He knew many spots where he was free from his brothers heavy gaze, but at the end of the day, he still had to come out and face the world. Alone.

Riding next to the forest full of pines, Sherlock suddenly had the weirdest thought. Wouldn't it be nice to have someone to ride with and enjoy this?

A True friend. Lestrade didn't count, although he'd take a bullet for him and they hang out occasionally at school, it wasn't the same. He had no one to talk to. His brain was his only friend. Yet also his worst enemy.

People would be surprised if they could hear what he was thinking at this second. That Sherlock Holmes, the machine actually cared about having friends for a second. But at the next moment, he realized how idiotic he was being. Friends? What use could he have of them. They had no purpose apart from companionship. They'd only be a bother. He only had so much time without prying eyes. Why would he want someone else staring at him?

Shaking his curls out of his eyes, he sped to Our Division. Maybe annoying Lestrade would fix his dark mood.

Our division was a homey little hole in the wall, that Lestrade's family owned. It was always full. After all, there were only so many places you could go and have fun in this town. 

Sherlock could see Lestrade weaving around tables in his silly black apron, with a platter on each hand. Lestrade was at his purest form at work. He ditched his leather everything and although it was a high pressure job, it was when he was most at ease and relaxed.

Opening the doors, he took in all the smells and tried to ignore that fact that everyone stopped and started talking lower when he walked in. 

People would always do that when he arrived anywhere. It still rubbed him the wrong way, even after 17 years. He knew how much people loved to gossip, and he was the biggest mystery to this town it seemed. He owned the largest greaser gang in town, yet next to no one knew anything about him. And what they did know made people hate him.

It didn't matter though, at least not to him. They were just another group of ignorant fools that walked the town.

Sherlock sat at his usual table at the back and waited for Lestrade to come to take his order. 

For the millionth time, he deduced everything he could about the worn wooden table and leather seats. That was one of his ‘little tricks’ as everyone called it. To Sherlock, it was his own little game, his favorite for sure. 

He grimaced as the dinner began to fill and he regretted coming. Sherlock decided to leave before Lestrade noticed him and he'd be forced to eat. 

Driving back home, he thought about all the places he could move to, which would be the best? 

It suddenly struck him. What would he do with the rest of his life? He loved science but he didn't want to become a scientist. He'd go crazy being forced to work in a lab all day with other people. And be told what to do, no matter what job he would be bossed around and he knew he wouldn't listen no matter what.

With his mind racing in a hundred different directions, he decided to go to his own place to think. 

Winding round the hidden road, he sped to the little house in the forest that he usually hung out in.

He unlocked the door, and quickly swept his gaze around the room trying to see if anything was out of place. He had impeccable memory, so any shift would stick out.

Seeing that everything was fine, Sherlock began to walk to the living room. Throwing all the papers and notebooks from off of his leather couch and on the nearest coffee table and other couches, he quickly lay and made himself comfortable, setting his hands under his chin. Sherlock blocked out the sounds of the birds and crickets and all other life around him till it was just him and his mind palace. 

Taking one giant step in, he began to think.


	2. New beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, writing this chapter made me so happy so I hope you guys enjoy :)

JOHNS POV

Feeling the stare coming from his mother, John buried himself deeper in his medical book.

“Johnny… You don't start school till tomorrow, how about you climb on over to the front seat now, cmon Harry, it's your turn.”

For about 4 hours he had been making sure their luggage wasn't going to fall into the front seat. 

Squishing past each other to change seats, he tried his hardest to ignore the bruise his sister had tried to conceal with makeup. clenching his fists, John blew slowly through his nose to calm the anger that sparked up in him.

He closed his book and put it to the side, he knew his mother was going to say something. He watched her tap her fingers over the steering wheel as she drove.

“Everything is going to be just right Johnny, you'll see. New house, new friends, new life. Harry might even apply for the journalism class she wanted!” She gave him an anxious glance, and waited for his reaction.

John knew that she was trying to reassure herself just as much as them, so he gave her the biggest smile he could and he started asking questions that would keep her mind in a happier place. 

After a few minutes, the car settled into a slightly tense silence. Everyone was in their own mind worrying about their own things, and it almost seemed like you could feel everyone's mood. Like a bubble around each of them, waiting to pop.

John stared outside the window and stared at the rows of never ending trees. He couldn't believe this was actually happening. Finally free. 

Not even that, this seemed like a dream come true. Where they used to live it was a dry and scorching desert this was a pleasant change, and for a few seconds, he had a horrible feeling he was dreaming again, but the familiar tapping of Harry and his mother's nervous tittering told him that he was wide awake. 

Sure the town was smaller than he was used to, but he liked it better this way. John Hayes large groups of people, so in their own town he was constantly frustrated. Maybe now he could finally ease up a little

He stared at the dozens of little shops, the 2 movie theaters and the oddly spaced houses everywhere. 

Reaching their new home, everyone was speechless. It wasn't the biggest house, or the nicest, but it was perfect to them. It wasn't falling apart, they actually had a front AND backyard now, and they could actually grow stuff here.

Compared to their apartment, the house was a luxurious. They'd all have their own room now. None of them could believe it.

John looked at Harry at the same time she did and they both bolted out of the car laughing. 

He jumped the little white fence and spun in a slow circle, taking in his new surroundings. Everything smelled dirt and plants. It was amazing. The cool aired surprised him, even though he knew seasons actually existed here, unlike his old place, where there were 3 summers and one ‘winter’. If you could even call it that. 

He stretched out his limbs from the long ride and walked around the house. It was light blue and a bit faded and the wooden steps needed some fixing, but that he could fix, that wasn't a real problem. 

He ran back to the font, and stood next to Harry where they both waited excitedly behind their mother to open the front door.

Her hands were shaking and he could hear her sniffling. John wished he could freeze this moment, where they were all filled with utter happiness, this pure moment when no one was thinking about bills that needed to be paid, or what would happen in the future.

“Together guys” she whispered in complete wonder.

Rolling their eyes but just as excited they all put their hands on the key and slowly twisted. After hearing the perfect sound of the door unlocking into their new life, Harry was the one who ended up kicking open the door. 

She hooted and Hollered her way inside, running around the house, screaming like they were children again.

John followed her example and ran around the house opening doors, flipping switches, everything was too good, to magical. A little part of him was terrified, although he would let that sink in at night, right now he just let himself enjoy the moment.

Because he knew this would be snatched away soon. For some reason, it seemed they could never be happy. It looked as if the world was against them, making sure they were always miserable. He never knew why. 

He had compared himself with other kids to see what was wrong with them, but Harry and his mom were perfect. Sure they had their faults, but they were the kindest and most selfless people he knew. It wasn't fair, people like them should have the world, and it was always johns secret mission for that to happen in the future. He would give them the life they deserved.

The house was covered in a thick layer of dirt and full of cobwebs and gunk, but they decided to start fixing that on the weekend, it was late and they needed to rest. 

John's room was upstairs, right in front of Harry's, meanwhile their mother's bedroom was on the first floor. 

Dropping some of his bags on the floor, he looked around at his new room. The room was pretty bare. It was Roomy, with a dark wooden floor and a rickety old bed. He loved it. 

Quickly tearing off the dusty bedcover and placing a new one, John threw himself on his new bed and sighed. He was dead tired, but he needed to fix a few things before bed and he knew it, so he slowly sat up with a groan.

John quickly set up his alarm clock, ironed his clothes, brushed his teeth and covered his windows with some ratty old towels he found. It would do for now. John couldn't go to sleep unless it was pitch dark.

Laying down once again on the mattress, for once, he fell into a dreamless sleep.


	3. Sherlock bloody Holmes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding Mystrade, I love it a lot so it will be a major part of the story, but it won't show up in a while.

JOHNS POV

John leaped out of bed as his alarm blared into the darkness. Leaning against the wall, he gave himself time for his heart to calm down.

Still a bit sleepy, he bent down to rummage through his black pack for one of their towels. Everything in the house was grimmy and dirty, but he'd start fixing that when he got home. 

John had forgotten where the bathroom was so he had to check a few doors before finding the right one.

Turing on the the water and setting it to hot, he waited for the dirt and grime to come out of the shower head. 

Seeing the clock, he convinced himself he had enough time. So he looked around till he found a cleaner and brush and started scrubbing the shower walls, the tub and the shower head. He just could take a shower in such filth.

John wasn't a germaphobe, but when he took showers he liked to know that the space around him was clean. Why take a shower if you're still going to be dirty at the end of it.

By the end of his merciless scrubbing, everything was a pearly white. But the water was dark grey. John grimaced as he let the water go down the drain, although he wasted time, it was worth it.

Taking a quick shower, he ran to his bedroom wrapped in a towel. He wasn't bashful, but he had few time.

John was thankful that he had ironed his clothes yesterday or he would've died.

He put on his buttoned up white shirt and paired it with a dark green vest, a pair of slightly faded pants and his new black shoes. He had saved up money and he decided to buy them in honor of their ‘new life’ as his mother put it.

With no food in the pantry, and no time for breakfast, John ran out of the front door and headed for their rusty ford. Pulling out his bike from the back, he quickly peddled to his new school.

It was only a couple minutes away, John had seen the enormous school on the way to his house. It was pretty hard to miss. 

It stood at 3 stories high with red brick buildings and Greek architecture hidden along the campus, and huge black fences surrounding it. No wonder this was the only school in town. They wouldn't need another. 

There were only a few students walking around, and none of them payed attention to him. It was still pretty dark, after all, he got there an hour early. 

John opened the front doors and walked around the school for a while, memorizing places, like the bathrooms, the library, the office and so on. Finally he went to go get his schedule, found all of his classes and met his teachers. They were all pretty nice but they kept asking him questions he didn't want to answer, and he didn't like to lie, so he's just dodge the questions by asking some of his own.

When he saw that there were only a few minutes left, he politely excused himself and started walking to his first period, calculus. By now, people were staring to notice him, but he pretended not to notice. He could see all of the cliques as he walked to his class. The jocks, the squares, the greasers, the squares. 

The day started out pretty uneventful, the teachers handed out the syllabus, told the rules and made everyone present themselves. The teachers only knew a few kids from seeing them in town, but to them, John was just another new student. They just didn't know how new he was. 

But the kids did. Everytime he presented, he could feel the stares of the other kids as they drank in the information he was reluctant to give. 

During his classes, He had made two new friends, Molly Hooper and Mike Stanford. They sat together during lunch, which was weirdly empty. Mike later filled them in and told him that only the squares sat inside, and that everyone else went outside, or left school to eat in town.

The food was actually really good and they had small talk until Stanford noticed a group of greasers leaning against their bikes. 

Leaning close to them and motioning for them to do the same, mike whispered “so have you met him yet?” 

“I'm not really good with names, but I'll give it a try, who?” John said, confused because he didn't know why they had to whisper.

Molly flushed a dark red, now understanding “trust me John, once you meet him you won't forget. Sherlock Holmes leaves quite an impression.”

Sherlock Holmes, such an exotic name, he knew he'd heard it somewhere. Suddenly he remembered. 

“I heard some kid with a skull ring talking about him, but I haven't seen him, no, why?”

Mike smirked “you'll see when you meet him, the bells going to ring at any second, let's go”

That conversation left an odd feeling in him but he decided to ignore it. 

By 5th period, he had about 8 phone numbers scribbled into his notebook. one of them was even from a guy! He blushed at the thought. John was secretly a bit pleased with the attention people were giving him. 

He knew people would be all over him the first few days because he was new, but he never thought people would be all over him because they found him attractive. 

He let the feeling sink in because he knew that they'd get tired of him and move on one the new kid smell rubbed off. He had never seen so many girls and even guys, giggling around him and fighting to talk to him. 

Dazed, he walked towards his 5th period. Honors chemistry. That's when things started to get interesting. 

As always, he was a bit early, so he got to sit in the front. It was odd, everyone kept moving to the back seats and people only started sitting closer to the front when there were no more seats available. 

The late bell rung, and John noticed how small the class was. There were still a handful of seats in the front. As a matter of fact, he was the only one in the front and he could feel everyone stealing glances at him, Like he was doing something wrong.

Their teacher, Ms. Hudson gave the usual speech all teachers gave at the beginning of the year. A group of late arrivers came and one ‘accidentally’ kicked his stuff all over the floor the greasy haired kid laughed and whispered an ‘oops’ before sitting down.

Ms. Hudson, not noticing anything, scolded him “I'm your teacher, not your maid, please pick up your mess dear.”

Flushing with embarrassment, he quickly said a Yes ma'am then started picking up his books. Someone else arrived and sat down next to him, but John payed them no mind, he just wanted to pick everything up quickly. 

After organizing everything he sat back up and wished his face would stop burning, he stared steadily at the teacher, not wanting to give the greasy prick the satisfaction.

Hearing the person next to him clear his throat, John turned to look at him, and eyebrow raised. And he stopped. 

“You missed this” said the silky voice. The boy had his green notebook, but that didn't matter because he was speechless.

The boy seemed like a Greek God himself. With high cheekbones and unbelievably black hair, and his curls so beautifully wind blown, John wanted to run his hand through them. His eyes captured his, and he couldn't look away. They were a mess of colors that made you want to stare at him long enough to try to figure them out. An artist would never be able to perfectly capture them.

John noticed his perfectly plump pink lips turn into a smirk and he was snapped back into the real world. 

“Sherlock, what's your excuse today?” Mrs Hudson said annoyed yet he could feel her affection towards him.

Not looking away from John, he replied “no reason today Ms Hudson, but you will find a dozen donuts in your front seat.” 

He's voice felt like a soft caress, his deep baritone sent shivers down his back. John just couldn't look away and he could feel himself flushing red again. 

“Oh Sherlock, you're such a sweet boy, I'll excuse you this time, but don't start doing this again like last year. Now please give John his notebook back, this is a very important class after all”

“John” he could see him tasting the word in his mouth “Such a common name. I would Ms Hudson, but it seems like he's become rather infatuated with my look” 

Turning a darker shade of red, John turned away from him, shocked and embarrassed. The class laughed and Ms. Hudson raised her eyebrows when she saw Johns look. 

“It's okay John, Mrs. Turner from upstairs has two of them, there's nothing to be ashamed of” 

“I'm not gay, I was just looking at the grease stain on the side of his face that makes him look quite idiotic” he said calmly, refusing to look at Sherlock. he could feel his smile growing wider. 

“Oh, well let's continue with the class rules” 

With pencil in hand, but nothing to write on, John made a point of staring ahead, refusing to ask Sherlock for it. 

After a few minutes, he leaned in, close enough that he could feel his lips on his ear. “Next time, try not to blush when you make up an excuse as to why you're ‘not’ gay” 

He shivered and Sherlock moved away, leaving his notebook on his desk.

“Prick” he whispered and he heard Sherlock's low chuckle which made him want to do somehing just to hear it again.

He could still feel the warmth on his neck and although he seemed like a jerk, John couldn't lie to himself. Sherlock had a complete effect on him, the bad boy aura around him only made him more delicious. 

Shaking his head and trying to concentrate on what Ms. Hudson was saying, John opened up his notebook, and froze when he saw what was written inside. 

‘The name’s Sherlock Holmes, the number is (541) 406-9082’ 

His writing was loopy and slightly cursive and John hastily skipped a page and began writing. He'd barely met the kid and he couldn't get him out of his head.

Soon the bell rung, and everyone began walking out while shooting him weird looks, as if he'd grown another head. 

He packed his stuff slowly, so he wouldn't end up having to walk next to Sherlock. 

“See you tomorrow” Sherlock said, and he looked up on instinct and saw him wink before turning away and leaving.

Seeing something slipping out of his notebook, he pulled it out. It was a schedule. Sherlock's schedule. John groaned and hit his head on the desk, which made ms Hudson shoot him a worried look. 

Quickly gathering his stuff and running out, he couldn't see Sherlock anywhere. He'd just give it to him Tomorrow. It was his fault, for not checking if he left anything in there.

Turns out they had 3 classes together. 1st, 3rd and 5th. He just hasn't showed up. John couldn't concentrate for the rest of the day, thinking about how he'd survive, with Sherlock bloody Holmes in the same class as him. 

He looked like a greaser with the tight white t shirt… And the leather jacket that fit perfectly around his muscles…

John snapped out of it, and wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans. This kid would be the death of him. John prayed that he'd sit with his greaser friends Tomorrow. 

Riding home was such a relief, every time he was afraid he'd bump into Sherlock. Especially because everyone was always talking about him. 

Sherlock couldn't be so bad, after all, their exchange had only lasted for a few minutes. But John couldn't handle seeing him right now. He had to get his thoughts in order.

John parked his bike next to the trash bins and head inside, where there was a noticeable difference. The floors were shining and it seemed that his mom had enough time to polish all the counters before they got home. 

His mom stood next to the stove with a bandana tying her hair up, meanwhile she scrubbed at the stove. 

“Johnny, is that you?” She asked without turning 

“No mum, it's just a burglar who just happens to have to keys to the house” he laughed.

Turning around she ran into john's arms and spun him around while squealing. “Guess who just got a job at the library! Oh Johnny it's so great, they give great hours and the people are so nice, and guess what.” Her smile filled up the room of light, he swore.

“That's great mom, I have no idea, tell me”

“Look, look, look” she went into a little closet and she took out a fat gift. 

He was surprised, they usually didn't have money to buy gifts so this was especially exciting. 

“Before you say anything, it isn't new, they were going to throw some stuff away at the library and I know you've secretly always wanted this...just open it already!”

Carefully unwrapping it, John held his new copy of the sorcerers stone in his hands. It wasn't new, not by far, it was worn and even highlighted in some places. But he felt his eyes watering up. 

He hugged his mother highly and whispered in her ear “I love it mother thank you Sososososos much” and he did, as long as it was readable (which it was) that's all he wanted. A copy where he could pick it up and read it as calmly or fast pace as he wanted. Where he could read it when he wanted. Sure he could do that at the library, but this was more special.

Smiling even more widely, his mom started pushing him upstairs “well… I could wrap all the books…”

Understanding what she meant, John bolted up the stairs screaming Thank yous.

And there they were on his desk, he lovingly set them in order. And lay on his bed content. 

He could really get used to this. That was his last thought till he drifted into a dream filled with silky covers and rainbow colored eyes.


	4. The Madman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment if you want me to add something later on, or any suggestions :)

SHERLOCKS POV

Locking up Lola in his garage, he quickly went up the steps and threw open his front door. Mycroft wouldn't be home for another two hours, so he was safe. 

Sitting on top of the wooden table in his dining room, Sherlock set his fingers under his chin and tried think about a new science problem he could solve. But nothing came to mind because someone else was occupying all of his thoughts. He couldn't concentrate on anything.

Jumping up from the table, he went to his room and lay on his bed, letting his head hang over the side. Sherlock tapped his fingers quickly on his bed. Waiting for an idea to pop up to get distracted. 

Maybe Lestrade knew what was wrong with him. Grabbing his phone he quickly texted him.

‘Lestrade come. Your help is needed. -SH’

Lestrade's father was a cop, so it wasn't odd for him to come home with cuts and bruises. That meant that he was quite accustomed to hearing what was wrong and fixing them.

Maybe Sherlock was dying. He'd have to learn more about medicine. No that would waste precious space in his mind palace. 

He flipped over to his bed and groaned. 

“Sherlock...are you decent?” Lestrade's voice sounded both amused yet incredulous.

“Of course come in” seeing his face, Sherlock quickly knew what he was talking about “oh I certainly wasn't doing that.” He grimaced 

“It's perfectly okay if you're starting to...you know...um, pleasure yourself” lestrade's face began to turn pinker with every word.

“It's not that at all Lestrade. Although I'd love to know how you got the keys to my house”

Lestrade’s eyes bulged and his face turned deep red in seconds 

“Well you accidentally left the door unlocked and-and...you know-”

Sherlock laughed, Lestrade was so dim witted sometimes. 

“You know, for hanging out with two genius’ you sure are quite dull.”

“Shove off, what do you mean by two?”

“Oh you know what I mean. I've known for months that you've been trying to hit it off with Mycroft.”

Lestrade froze, and for a second, Sherlock thought he might actually take a swing at him. But then he sighed burying his face in his hands.

“Is it that obvious that Mycroft isn't into me? I should just bugger off”

“On the contrary, every time I say you name, the idiot stiffens up like a bloodhound and drinks in my every word. I'd wish you'd just make a move and get this over with” 

For a few minutes, Lestrade sat there thinking, a new light in his eyes, until finally, he remembered why he came.

“Okay what's the problem, i never thought there'd be a day when Sherlock Holmes asked for my help. I'm honored”

“Oh be quiet you arsehole. I don't have this information in my mind palace and you do.”

“Sherlock, we've been over this, you're the only one I know that has a mind palace.”

Pulling his legs underneath him, he studied him till Lestrade knew that what he said next, he was not joking.

“I might be dying” 

Alarmed, Lestrade looked all over sherlock's body to see any new wounds or anything that might be causing him harm, not seeing anything, he stood up and began examining him.

“What the bloody hell do you mean you ‘might’ be dying? Is it because of the fight the other day? I told you to not take them all by yourself, but noooo you're Sherlock Holmes, you can do everything by your-”

Laughing, Sherlock cut him off “Lestrade you twit, it's not that, those fools hardly touched me. Anyways, I think my mind is slowly starting to fail me.”

Lestrade searched his eyes to see how serious he was.

“What does that even mean mate?”

Standing up abruptly, he sat cross crossed on his bed and placed his fingers like a temple under his chin.

“My mind betrayed me today. That's why I left early. You speak of this to anyone and I swear I will Mycroft go away for a couple of months.”

Lestrade just got comfortable and waited.

“There's this new boy in my Classroom, his name is John Watson. That's the only thing I know about him in the hour that I've met him.”

“Wait. You can read a guy in seconds. But, you couldn't read the little square kid in an hour? Something is definitely wrong.” Lestrade took off his jacket and played around with it anxiously.

“As I was saying, I ended up snipping him my schedule in his dorky notebook and I wrote my phone number in there without even thinking about it! Wait… I never said he was a square. What do you know?” He ordered as he went back to sit in front of Lestrade, leaning into him to not miss a word. 

Lestrade, now wide eyed and slightly smiling continued with his new information “the new square kid? Yeah, everyone won't shut up about the kid, mostly the girls, but even some of the guys have the hots for him. Sherlock, it's not just one group, you got the jocks, the squares, the cheer girls, even the greasers got a thing for the kid…”

He could tell that Lestrade was gauging his reaction so he schooled his features into an Unaffected look. 

Now pacing across the room Sherlock continued, something hot was forming inside of him at the thought of someone else taking John away.

“That is ridiculous, I was the first to speak to him, therefore he is mine. Everyone knows that.” 

Lestrade stared at him, now a full formed smile on his face.

“Why do you keep doing that Lestrade? You're scaring me. Stop smiling at me.” 

Lestrade looked like he was about to erupt into giggles, which alarmed Sherlock greatly. Was his slow death so amusing to him?

“I know what's wrong with you.” Lestrade leaned in closer, as if he were about to reveal a great secret.

“Spit it out well!”

“The Sherlock Holmes, the one and only unemotional consulting detective...has developed a crush. On a tiny pretty square.”

Love? No. Not at all, he didn't feel that sort of stuff and even if he did, how could he know? He'd never experienced it before.

“Shut up”

“I didn't say anything!” Lestrade laughed

“You were thinking and it's very annoying” he glared one last time at Lestrade before trying to solve the problem.

But that assumption was too illogical. That he, Sherlock Holmes would develop...a crush, on a kid he barely met, it was ridiculous.

Yet it sent shivers down his spine, and he felt something warm when he thought about him

Standing up, Sherlock began walking to the garage. 

“Where are you going now?” Lestrade asked incredulous 

“On a ride!” He screamed at the bottom of the stairs.

“You can't ignore your feelings forever!”

“I do not have a- a crush on John Watson”

Hearing lestrade's laughter in between his “sure you don't”, he only walked faster to his precious Lola.

Sherlock quickly pulled on his fingerless leather gloves and turned her on, revving her engine to hear her up faster. 

God forbid Lestrade followed him.

He sped out and headed in no particular direction. He just drove around neighborhoods and streets, he wanted time to think. He could go to his ‘lab’ as his crew called it (his little house in the forest) but he didn't want to sit or stand. 

He felt restless, and driving took some of it away. 

Seeing a group of greasers surrounding a kid, Sherlock groaned. 

Buttoned up shirt, blue v-neck, ridiculous bow tie, square. 

Did those idiots have nothing else to do? Always picking on a square. 

Out of everyone, Sherlock respected them the most. Although they were still quite dull, they at least tried to be less ignorant.

Slowing down beside them Sherlock felt his blood pumping, maybe a quick little fight would calm him down.

“You know the rules, you can only pick on squares for about 5 minutes, my guess is that this has been going on longer.”

One of them quickly turned around, the leader, Sherlock could tell, and was about to say something. But when he realized who he was, he kept quiet and motioned for them to leave. Smart move, Sherlock smirked

It was John.

It took him less than a second to compose himself. He felt both extraordinarily calm, yet like he was about to combust at any second. 

As some of the greasers passed by him, he noticed that some of them whispered threats and taunts at him. He raised an eyebrow.

This had started out as a simple taunting, but John had actually gotten them angry. 

That sparked both interest and even a bit of pride in him, and it surprised him.

“What? Have you come to finish me off, to show them how tough you are? Give it a go, I dare you”

The defiance in his eyes was refreshing and he just wanted to pin him against that k-Mart and- he stopped himself. What had John said? All of this had happened in a second, what the bloody hell was wrong with him?

Finally realizing what he said he could help but laughing “well that might be the best thank you I've received all week. You truly are fascinating.”

John blushed and kept walking, grocery bags in hand. “Thanks but I didn't need your help, I know how to hold myself up”

“Oh really? Even against five people?” Sherlock walked next to him, even his science projects weren't this fun. Or challenging.

John scoffed and looked at him offended “easily, but I didn't want to, I had no reason to. I knew they wouldn't do anything”

Sherlock laughed and spun him to face him. He heard John catch his breath, but he raised an eyebrow, questioning. 

For a second, Sherlock studied him, and felt John pulse quicken up underneath his fingers and felt his own heart settle at the same pace.

“You owe me a favor, let me take you home.”

The tension popped when John started laughing. 

“First of all, we know nothing about each other, for all I know, you're going to take me to some abandoned building and call your buddies back for round two. Second of all, I didn't need your help” 

Sensing a challenge, Sherlock straightened up and started walking back to his bike. Because he knew after this John would realize why everyone hated him yet feared him. 

“I know you start limping a bit when you get self conscious, you got hurt as a child, that's why you're slightly clumsy, but you don't start limping till you're self conscious, so you remember the incident, that means it was traumatic, maybe you got hit by a car, maybe you fell off a high place. I know your brother has a drinking problem, and your highly protective of him although you slightly resent him. I also know your name is John Watson and that you don't really fit in any group, although at first sight people would say your a square, I'd say you're something else entirely.”

Now next to Lola, Sherlock forced himself to turn around and face John. Although he was a full head shorter than Sherlock he was packed with muscle, so he prepared himself for the blow that was sure to come.

But it never came. John slowly walked up to him in awe “how in the bloody hell do you know all that?” Suddenly his features changed, a mixture of both being creeped out yet pleased “are you stalking me?”

“God no” Sherlock chucked “I don't know, I saw” 

“And what does that mean?”

Seeing the opportunity, Sherlock got on his bike and turned on the engine.

“Come with me and find out” he smirked, he had noticed that John liked it when he did that.

“I would...but what would I do with my groceries?” John smiled innocently and started walking away.

Making a quick u turn, Sherlock stopped his bike right in front John, barely missing him. 

Sherlock pulled him close, his mouth right next to his ear “not so fast Johnny boy” he purred and he was pleased when John shivered and his skin started to bump over.

Trying to remain cool, John stepped back, but Sherlock saw the effect he was having on him.

“Give me that” Sherlock grabbed his bags and placed them in the little hidden glove box he had. “Now you have no reason to not go with me”

“I could just refuse” John smiled sweetly again, stubbornness coming through. 

“Ah, but then you'd never know how I found out what I know.” 

John bit his lip and Sherlock could see him weighing the pros and cons.

“Fine, but straight home.”

Sherlock smiled wide and sat closer to the front so John could sit on.

He realized what was about to happen. No one had ever touched Lola, except him. Not even Mycroft had dared to touch her. But with John, it felt natural for him to get one. He inwardly groaned, Lestrade was most likely right. What had the world come to? 

John sat back as far as he could, but Sherlock took off, forcing him to hold onto him. He could imagine them going everywhere like this. With john's arms around him, he truly felt as if he could take over the world and protect him from anything.

“Tell me, tell me how you know!” They had to scream over the wind, but that was fine.

“I didn't know! I saw. I noticed you limping yesterday, but only after Ms. Hudson scolded you. You only limped from one leg though, so it wasn't nerves, you were hurt when you were younger. The fact that you only started limping when scolded by an authority figure, shows that the event was traumatic in some way. As for your brother, I saw it on the scratch marks on your phone, you never see those marks on a sober mans phone and you never see a drunks without them. Plus, you stiffened up when I mentioned him, so you're protective of him, but you resent him for leaving his girlfriend, Clara.

You should really stop labeling all of your notebooks with your name, by the way. It's so easy to blackmail you like that. Anyways, you don't fit in a group. First look says square, but you have lots of scars all over your knuckles and even have some on your face, so you've been in some fights. You're street smart And you talk back, not typical square behavior. Also you're mouthwatering, so you choose to be a square. Not many people would do that.” 

Sherlock was tense as minutes passed, he was sure that John would asked to be let off. 

Instead John started laughing, he could feel his chest rumble against his back and he felt tears seep into his shirt. 

“That's brilliant!” Can you do more?” 

“Of- of course I can” 

He stayed silent the rest of the ride. He felt something inside of him that wanted to burst. He was extremely pleased with the compliment John gave him.

Sherlock dropped John off at a nice looking two story house. It was a bit run down and rather old, yet it looked inviting and a part of him wished John would invite him to come with him. Which was bloody ridiculous. 

John thanked him and got off, and started walking off, but he caught his arm and spun him so he'd face him. John looked at him confused.

“Did you mean it?” Sherlock asked, searching his eyes.

Even more perplexed, he could see him thinking back to their conversation.

“Did you..did you really think that it was brilliant?”

Now understanding, John smiled and shook his head furiously, “of course it was!”

“That's not what most people say” he chucked.

“And what do most people say?” He questioned.

Sherlock looked John straight in the eye. “Piss off” 

They both chuckled “well good thing I'm not most people” John said, his eyes shining in the darkening sky. 

“Well, goodnight Sherlock” 

“John, are you really going to forget your groceries?” 

Blushing, John quickly doubled back “of course not, I wanted to see if you would remember” 

“Oh yeah sure, that must've been it, anyways, might I expect a call from your lovely home later today?”

John made a show of pretending he was considering it. “I don't know you arrogant prick….I just might, bye”

And with that he spun and went home, the smirk on his face making Sherlock want to bring him back over here.

As he left he took one last look of him before he stepped on the gas and began hollering like a madman.


	5. Everything is not as it seems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry i took so long for this new chapter, sadly i had homework to do. This chapter is just to set up for later more important chapters, so it's not really interesting. sorry about that too :(

JOHNS POV

Too excited to actually walk in his home, John decided to head to the forest that surrounded practically everything. He had wanted to explore it yesterday, but he was too tired.   
His mom wasn't expecting him till another hour or so, that meant he had enough time to walk around for a bit and come back.

The pine smell was everywhere and it made him want to take some pine cones back with him to freshen up his room. Or maybe he's just start leaving his window open to let the sent in. deciding on the first option, he made a bundle of pine cones and tied them off with bits of long grass that he found.

Most of the pines were tall and old, but they were beautiful. Turning in a circle he closed his eyes and let himself relax. He could get used to this. School, work, then some exploring in the forest. With so many free time that he now had, the possibilities were endless. The reality that they had finally made it sank in. 

John wanted to cry, sing, scream about his freedom from the treetops. Tree tops! Marveling at the beauty around him, he decided to act like a child again, and he ran, as fast as he could, even his limp didn’t seem so bad  
.  
Finding a perfect tree with low branches, he climbed up, savoring the chill that only got worse the higher he went.

At first he sat at the top of the branches and looked out to the town and watched all of those tiny lights at tiny homes where people actually lived. Everything seemed so insignificant from this height.

John wished he could somehow capture the sight so he could show his mother and Harry. They’d love it. Maybe he’d bring her tomorrow.  
Checking the time John began to climb down. He had to go home before they started to worry about him. In his family, punctuality was a virtue. If you were more than 5 minutes late, it was a sign of danger. Good thing he still had an hour to go.

Close to the floor, he noticed that his shirt sleeve had come down and he froze. 

Scars covered his entire wrist. There were thousands. All thin and tiny, practically insignificant alone. But under the rays of the sun they shone and he winced. Those weren’t even the bad part, his thighs were an entirely different story.

They were disgusting, he could feel the familiar feeling of numbness staring to set in, so he quickly looked away and began climbing down again.   
Not paying attention, his foot slipped from a tree branch and John desperately tried catching a branch, anything to hold onto, but it was too late. He fell with a loud thud, and with a dome of trees surrounding him, he slowly slipped into darkness.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John felt the back of his head throb when he woke up. His whole body felt tense and stiff and he was freezing. Had he fallen asleep without a blanket on? His mother had warned him that it was cold here, but he didn’t realize how cold it actually got. 

Opening his eyes, John noticed the pine trees all around him and he was confused. Although he'd only been in his new room for two days, he knew for sure that his whole room was a dirty white because of the grease and dust that covered everything. Then he remembered everything.

Groaning from the pain, he got up and held onto the tree to fight off the wave of dizziness that came over him. His leg bloody hurt like hell every time he took a step.  
Slowly, he brought his watch over to the moonlight and checked the time.

He stared at it with dread as it sank in. It was 1:47 AM. It was as if someone had thrown a cold bucket of water on him. Suddenly he felt wide awake.  
John quickly hobbled back to his home as fast as he could. How far had had he ran? Cold sweat dripped down his neck.   
John got back in 15 minutes and he saw that only the living room light was on.  
Maybe they just left a light on for him? He thought hopefully.

He slowly turned the knob and felt relieved that this door handle didn't squeak.

Slowly walking in, he noticed the dining room was empty, and it was oddly quiet. He was accustomed to Harry's soft snore. 

Maybe he found them, all of a sudden his paranoia and panic spiked up. The air reeked of alcohol. Harry had already found alcohol in town. His stomach dropped. John wasn’t religious. Not by a long shot, but he cursed the universe in general and prayed at the same time that they were safe. They were finally starting to relax and start a happy life. He couldn’t just come, sweep in and destroy everything. But he could and John knew he’d come back. It was only a matter of time. 

He only hoped that today was not that day.

Taking Another step forward, he reached towards his hip and bulled out his hidden blade. It was a comb. But you could twist it and the top would come off, leaving a deadly blade in its place.

Hearing a creak at the end of the hallway, John was prepared. His hands were steady and he felt a calm settle over him and he prepared himself for the worst.

Turning the corner, he was about to attack the person who tried hiding from him, but last second he realized it was Harry and he threw the knife to the wall, where it went in 3 inches.

Harry, still with her eyes closed, attacked him with a bat in a drunken rage. “What the bloody hell did you do to Johnny? I won’t let you hurt us anymore” As she glared at him, it took her a few seconds before she finally realized that she had mistaken him.

“John you idiot!” she threw the bat and squeezed him. “I’d apologize, but I’m too mad.” Harry held him at arms length “What the hell were you thinking? You know we just got away. Finally, you know that mum and I thought he had found us and taken you. We called the cops after the first hour.” Her voice cracked and he saw tears shining in her eyes. “You nearly scared us to death you little git” Harry laughed to play it off, but she buried her face on his shoulder and held him tight.

Ridden with guilt, John allowed himself to think what would have happened if the opposite had happened. If Harry or his mum had been the ones to disappear for over 6 hours. He shuddered and pulled Harry closer. He would’ve gone insane trying to find them. 

Pulling Harry off of him, he slowly walked to his mother’s room. Nervous, John slowly opened the door. His mother was sitting on an old rickety chair knitting a sweater. Anyone who didn’t know her would’ve thought that she was day dreaming. But John could see the way her hands shoot and how she kept shooting glances at the phone. He knew what she was waiting for and it killed him. She was waiting for the cops to call.

“Mummy, I’m home” he joked weakly. Standing up quickly, his mom smiled like she usually did, but he could see the relief in her eyes and how her eyes shined with gratitude, as if a great weight had been lifted off of her.   
“John, I know on the way here I said I wanted you to actually make friends, but please try call to tell me if you’ll be staying longer than you anticipated.” His mother was trying to act as if his disappearance hadn’t been filling her mind with countless scenarios, but John knew how her mind worked.

Harry had always been the one to be causing trouble, not John. Not once had she received an ill report from him. So he knew that she thought that yelling at him would seem unfair. John went to hug his mother tightly. She was an angel and didn’t deserve everything that had happened to her.

“How about some cookies?” she laughed into his shirt. “Mum, its late, we need our sleep.”

“Oh no you don’t!” Harry started shoving him to the kitchen. “Although mum won’t admit it, you almost frightened us to death. So we at least deserve some warm cookies and all the details of your adventure today.”

Chuckling, John held his hands out in defeat “Alright, alright, it’s not very interesting though. And I wouldn’t call him a friend, he’s very infuriating. Plus, I just met the arrogant prick, so don’t expect to meet him or anything. I do enjoy being alone- “

“Just tell us what happened!” Harry interrupted sitting at the table. His mother, which had sat next to her nodded.

“One friend Johnny, I’ve never asked you for much, but I’m demanding at least that, you need someone to talk to besides Harriet.”

Sighing and leaning against the counter, John nodded his head. Both of them squealed which only made him laugh. 

He told them about his day, meeting Sherlock (although he made the interaction sound more playful than it was, and he completely skipped the part where he almost beat up a pack of greasers and Sherlock took him home) and he told them that he went to take a walk in the forest but he lost his way back.

“Johnny that was really reckless of you. What if you’d gotten hurt? No one even knew where you were. Next time, you either stay on the path, or go with someone who lives here and knows the forest.” His mother ranted. She’d been lecturing for the past 30 min about the dangers.

Harry on the other hand only smiled at him wickedly, like she knew something that he didn’t. John ignored it, it must be the alcohol in her system.

That night, his mum made them both sleep with her. John thought it was a joke at first, but when he realized his mom wasn’t joking, he complied. He’d caused them both so much suffering, he felt obligated to give them anything they wanted. Besides, other than feeling a bit awkward and childlike, it wouldn’t kill him to sleep with them again.  
It sent him back to a time before everything turned into a nightmare, where peppermint shakes and homemade cookies were the norm. 

For now, everything was almost perfect. But John would soon look back to this night where he thought that just maybe, he could be happy without having to worry that at any moment it might be taken away. He’d look back and long for many things, but especially, the short time period where everything seemed like a fairy tale. But what most people don’t know is that there were pretty Grimm ones too.


End file.
